


Antiseptic Blues

by teawriter



Series: Reisaru AU [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Fushimi can actually do affection for once, Gunshot, We love him though, couples who clean blood off each other stay together, doctor!Fushimi, officer!Munakata, underusage of medical terms because i am not yet in med school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 07:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teawriter/pseuds/teawriter
Summary: “There is no need to fuss over me like this.””Yeah, you’re right. And I wouldn’t have had to fuss over you if my stupid boyfriend hadn’t decided to get in the middle of a gang fight. Now shut up and let me focus.”All those AP biology textbooks, university powerpoints, and hospital internships had helped to get Fushimi where he is now, but medical school forgot to teach him that the hardest part of extracting a bullet is doing it for someone important to you.





	Antiseptic Blues

Fushimi’s heart is in his throat. His hands shake.

And for the third time, probably not for the last time, he forces all the malice he can into the next words he says, directed to the man laying on the bed; heaven forbid he reveal how he actually feels as he pushes at the shoulder of his impromptu patient and snarls, “Hold. Still.”

Munakata, of course, doesn’t listen and tries to get up anyway- never mind that sweat is plastering his bangs onto his head, that he’s white as the sheets he’s laying on top of, and that there is blood dripping out of the _bullet wound_ in his _stomach_. And that’s _without_ he extremely high probability of broken ribs, which is why Fushimi doesn’t so much push him back this time than he does tap on his shoulder. His hands are shaking way too much, and he has to set down the scalpel for a moment as he glares at Munakata. “Captain, I need to get this bullet out so you don’t die, and I can’t do that unless you _hold still_.”

”- It’s-” Munakata cuts himself off with a cough; his shirt is flecked with scarlet splatters. “- It would be better, Fu- Fushimi-kun, to... take me to a hospital.”

”And how far do you think the closest hospital is?!”

Stupid Captain and his stupid righteousness, Fushimi thinks furiously as he unbuttons Munakata’s shirt and peels it away from his body gingerly. Stupid drunk people, stupid _gang_ fight- what was the Captain even doing in that part of town anyway? Kyushu is not like Tokyo at all- stupid Captain for thinking that it is. 

“Fushimi-kun.” Munakata’s voice isn’t so wobbly now, but it’s strained; not broken ribs, but definitely bruises ribs, then. “There is no need to fuss over me like this.”

”Yeah, you’re right. And I wouldn’t have had to fuss over you if my stupid boyfriend hadn’t decided to get in the middle of a gang fight.” He hands Munakata a rolled up belt; the other man takes it obediently. “Now shut up and let me focus.”

All those AP biology textbooks, university powerpoints, and hospital internships had helped to get him where he is now, but medical school forgot to teach him that the hardest part of extracting a bullet is doing it for someone important to you. Mentally difficult, sure, but take a loved one and that difficulty triples. Fushimi needs to push and pull oxygen from his lungs before his hand stops shaking enough for him to use the scalpel and make an incision.

Munakata doesn’t exactly flinch, but he’s in enough pain that even the slightest cut must send waves of pain rolling over him- Fushimi wishes he had anaesthetic with him. He reaches out with his free hand, cradles his boyfriend’s face in comfort he rarely provides. “This is going to hurt. But don’t even think about falling asleep on me, you hear?”

Munakata blinks, and that is answer enough.

The scalpel is exchanged for tweezers. Bloody cloth is pushed to the side, and with every accidental brush Fushimi feels Munakata push down a jolt. He’s a bit more gentle when he presses around the already swelling skin around the bucket wound; from what he can tell, there’s no exit wound. It’s going to be one of _those_ extractions.

His hand is steady when he poises the tweezers over the wound, years of training awakening muscle memory as he very carefully allows the tweezers to close around the edge of the bullet. “On three, okay?”

A nod.

”One.”

The tweezers pull the bullet less than a fraction out; the bed slightly jolts and Munakata pulls in deep breath after breath, but Fushimi doesn’t let himself look. The cold metal of the tweezers contrasts with the heat from his hand, and as he continues to extract the bullet little by painstaking little, Munakata’s breaths turned into strained, barely restrained groans. The other man’s hands clench and unclench around the covers. _Stay with me, Captain_.

Fushimi’s heart is in his throat but he doesn’t let up. He does not let himself look away from the bloodstained tweezers or the crimson-covered bullet until he completely removes it.

Immediately Munakata goes slack, the belt falling from his mouth, and Fushimi takes that opportunity to clean what he can, moving a cloth soaked in warm water in circles until most of the blood is gone and the water in the bowl’s turned pink. After that comes the bandages, and it’s only when Munakata presses the folded gauze to his wound that Fushimi finally relaxes.

He leans forward and presses his forehead to the back of Munakata’s shoulder, never mind that he’s in the middle of wrapping the other man’s torso, as he sighs. “Idiot Captain,” he mumbles, “putting yourself into danger like that. What if I hadn't been there?”

He’s not going to say, don’t ever do that again. This life that Munakata chose puts him into danger on a regular basis for the sake of peace and order; there will probably never be a day when the other man doesn’t face dangerous situations or dangerous people, and that’s only when Fushimi decides to stay with him for medical assistance.

But that man is also his boyfriend, the one constant in his life, and for all that Fushimi is detached to this world, he refuses to lose another person he cares about.

Munakata knows it too; that’s maybe why, since it probably hurts to move at all, he presses back against Fushimi’s head. “But you were,” he says softly, “and I am more grateful than I could ever hope to express.”

”Are you.”

”Indeed. All the same, it was not fair to you, Fushimi-kun; I’ve only dragged you into this life instead of protecting you from it like I promised I would.”

Fushimi doesn’t respond to that; they both knew from the moment they met that he would have sunken into this life sooner or later. Instead, he shifts and, on an impulse, presses a kiss to Munakata’s shoulder before finding the man’s free hand and slipping his hand into it. “It’s not that bad.”

Good or bad doesn’t apply to the situation, because it’s just what it is. And Fushimi’s long accepted that he will continue to fix wounds, go to bed alone more often than not, and be there when the nightmares come as long as it means that Munakata will live. That he will come home.

Munakata does turn around then, shuts him up with a kiss before he can scold him for aggravating the wound, and Fushimi lets himself have this. The report can wait until tomorrow, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, you guys, if you ever break ribs or get shot, please do not pull a Fushimi and try and fix it yourselves- go to a hospital. These two just had the back luck to be in a rural area where the nearest hospital was three hours away.


End file.
